006 | revenge is a dish best served cold

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fuck school.
should've gone to shiratorizawa.

APRIL FOURTHTWO THOUSAND AND TEN

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APRIL FOURTH
TWO THOUSAND AND TEN

7:45 in the morning

STARING IN THE MIRROR, Sora tugged down the long sleeves of his light blue dress shirt. His legs and waist were clad in a pair of purple pants, and a matching coloured tie was looped around his neck, right under the collar of his shirt. A white blazer with purple stitches sat on the back of his chair, right next to a pair of brown loafers. If you haven't realised by now, this was the conventional Shiratorizawa Academy uniform. Yes, Sora Suzuki was going to Shiratorizawa. The school famous for its expensive fees, educational system and volleyball team.

Hands ran over the fabrics, smoothing out the wrinkles. Sora was excited to start his first day at Shiratorizawa. He had gotten a sports scholarship once they learnt of his swimming abilities, and Sora was ready to use that to his advantage. But was he simply joining Shiratorizawa because it was a good school?

Oh, no.

Not at all.

Shiratorizawa was Aoba Johsai's rival school.

It was the very school Wakatoshi Ushijima, yes, Sora had searched up his actual name, was attending. The very boy Tooru Oikawa despised with his whole being.

Sora was going to make it his mission to befriend the exceptional volleyball player.

Purely out of spite.

He was going to make Tooru regret the very moment he cut Tobio out of his life.

"You look good," Miwa whistled, leaning against the doorway. "The uniform suits you."

"Thanks," grinned Sora. He turned around, pushing back his growing hair.

"Sure you don't want me to give you a haircut? It's getting longer now."

"I'm fine, thanks," he answered. "I think it'll look nice if I let it grow out."

"Hmm." Miwa peered at his face until a large smile broke out across her face. "I agree!" Her arms rested over her forearms, and she gestured for him to move. "Come on.
Dad's downstairs. He made breakfast."

"Ooh, yum!"

The two descended the stairs, spotting Tobio sitting at the kitchen table, his legs swinging slightly from the high chairs. Satoshi Kageyama stood in the kitchen, an array of ingredients laid out in front of him, as well as the bento boxes he was currently packing for his childrenSora, included.

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